


If Darkness Blinds You, I Will Shine To Guide You

by destielsdessert



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst, Bipolar Disorder, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hugs, Lots of it, M/M, Mickey Uses His Words, Suicide Attempt, almost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-28 07:54:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15703026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/destielsdessert/pseuds/destielsdessert
Summary: The one where Mickey has to talk Ian out of killing himself, and maybe kind of struggles with the after-effects.





	If Darkness Blinds You, I Will Shine To Guide You

"Mick?"

Ian's voice is quiet, gentle, but it cuts through Mickey's sleep as if a car had just crashed through the wall. His eyes snap open and meet Ian's and, through the warm blanket of light filtering through the curtains, he can see that Ian's eyes are no longer dull and blank like they have been for the past two weeks. They're not exactly bright, but at least they're not lifeless any more.

Mickey smiles slightly, refraining from showing too much intense emotion even though he's vibrating on the inside with excitement that Ian is talking to him, _finally_. "Hey." He ignores the urge he has to reach over and pull Ian close; they have to take this at Ian's own pace. He doesn't want to risk pushing Ian too far and, in turn, cause him to fall back into his depression.

"Hi," Ian whispers. His voice is croaky and dry from lack of use, but to Mickey, it has never sounded more beautiful. He's never been so happy to hear Ian's voice when he isn't saying _go away_ or _leave me alone_.

"You feelin' better?"

Mickey already knows the answer to that question just by the fact that Ian is talking to him, and the fact that Ian is actually poking his head out of the comforter and he's not burrowed completely beneath it, hidden from sight. But it still fills him with a sense of security when Ian nods slowly to confirm.

Honestly, Mickey was beginning to become unsure of whether or not Ian was actually going to come out of this state of depression. Part of him knew it wasn't going to last forever, but these two weeks have been hell for him and he was beginning to lose hope and thought that maybe he'd have to take more drastic action - like taking Ian to a hospital.

He's so relieved that that didn't have to happen, that Ian seems to have snapped out of it on his own.

Ian whimpers all of a sudden, twisting his face into the pillow. "I'm sorry," he mumbles, voice laced with tears.

Mickey's heart clenches. Part of him wants to punch something, part of him wants to just hold Ian as tightly to his chest as he can. " _Don't_ -" His voice breaks and he clears his throat, trying again. "Can I touch you?" Ian turns his head back to face Mickey, eyebrows scrunched together slightly but he nods, so Mickey moves closer and immediately brings his hand to cup Ian's jaw. "This isn't your fault, none of this is your fault. You can't control this. So don't- _don't_ apologise for any of this because it _isn't your fault_ , alright?"

A tear slips down the side of Ian's face and it's taking the utmost effort for Mickey to stop himself from crying, too. "It's not fair on you, though. You shouldn't have to deal with this, with _me_ -"

"Hey, I don't _have_ to deal with nothin'," Mickey interrupts, tightening his grip on Ian's jaw and forcing the redhead to look at him. "I chose this, Ian. I chose _you_ , and I ain't going nowhere, alright?" He relaxes, stroking his thumb across Ian's cheekbone. "You won't get rid of me that easily."

Ian dips his head and nuzzles his nose into Mickey's chest, exhaling shakily, and Mickey moves his arms to curl around Ian's shoulders to pull him closer. Together, they lay like that while Mickey listens to Ian's breathing slowly even out. He doesn't close his eyes, doesn't try to fall back asleep, just listens and feels the warmth of Ian's breath on his chest. He knows Ian is still awake but he knows that Ian likes to lay in silence for a while sometimes, time to just think and be close to each other.

It's peaceful, for the both of them.

Mickey doesn't know how much time passes but it's definitely a while before Ian stirs again, fingers flexing across Mickey's chest. He stays as still as he can because there's still a chance that Ian will fall back into _that state_ if he does something wrong or says something that Ian will take the wrong way, and he can't risk that. So he waits for Ian to do something, anything that he wants to.

Ian doesn't do much, though. He tilts his head slightly, still resting it on Mickey's chest, and lets out a low breath. "I love you," he whispers in a soft sigh.

It's so quiet that it's almost as if Mickey isn't supposed to hear it, but he does. He does his best not to have any physical reaction, but his stomach twists and his heart burns. He's still not used to all of this lovey-dovey stuff, and he's still not sure he's entirely comfortable with it, so he debates pretending he didn't hear it.

But he did hear it and these past weeks must have taken more of a toll on him than he's willing to admit because he finds himself saying, "I love you, too."

Ian stiffens, fingers freezing and he lifts his head to meet Mickey's eyes, his own eyes filled with a familiar, hopeful shine and he's grinning dopily, like Mickey has just given him the world. He stays silent on the subject though, which Mickey is grateful for because he's not sure he really wants to talk about this right now. He just wants to hold Ian and convince himself that the redhead is okay. He needs Ian to be okay.

It only takes a minute for Ian to speak again. "Can you get me a glass of water?"

For a second, Mickey finds himself dumbly frozen, trying to process Ian's words because for some reason he can't. He realises pretty quickly that he actually has an opportunity to make himself useful, though, and nods probably way too enthusiastically. "Sure," he says as he sits up.

Ian pulls away and Mickey makes his way into the kitchen and pours a glass of water. By the time he gets back, Ian is sitting up and Mickey freezes in the doorway for a second, eyes wide because this is something he wasn't sure he was going to see again for a while and he's just trying to take it in. He composes himself after a second when Ian begins to look at him confusedly and walks back over to the bed, handing the glass to Ian.

Ian gulps the water down quicker than Mickey has ever seen anyone drink, but he's not surprised. Ian has barely drunk anything within the past couple of weeks, only doing so once Mickey had been able to physically force him to sit up and drink something, and that hadn't happened often. When Ian is finished, Mickey takes the glass back from him and discards it on the bedside table before sitting back down on the bed, across from Ian.

He stares at Ian, but not in a condescending way. He just looks, takes everything in even though Ian has definitely seen better days. His skin is - somehow - paler than usual, hair messy and greasy, and his eyes have deep, dark bags beneath them, but he's as beautiful as he ever has been. And Mickey needs a moment to just process that Ian is here, sitting right in front of him because it still feels kind of unreal, kind of like a dream and he's scared to believe it.

"How you feelin'?" he asks. He needs to assess the situation, to figure out how he should be handling this, though he keeps his voice calm in order to assure Ian that he doesn't have to answer. Mickey is just happy to have him, here and alert.

Ian shrugs, staring down at his lap. "Feel a bit... weird," he says, chancing a quick glance up at Mickey before returning his gaze to his lap.

Mickey frowns. Something doesn't feel right, but he can't quite pinpoint what it is so he figures that maybe he's overreacting. "That's not surprising." Ian nods, but there's been a definite shift in the atmosphere. Mickey is sure that something is wrong but he doesn't know _what_. And he's not sure how to approach it, so he pushes it to the back of his mind, still scared that he's going to say or do the wrong thing. "You're okay, though?" The question is vague and Mickey isn't exactly sure what he's expecting as a reply.

Ian nods slowly. He doesn't look entirely sure but that's not exactly shocking; his head is probably still a mess and he's probably struggling to put everything together. "I think so."

That's enough for Mickey for now. They fall into another silence, and Mickey finds himself staring yet again. He's still so overwhelmed by the fact that Ian is sitting here, looking at him, talking to him. He was terrified that he wouldn't get to experience this again, so it's definitely difficult to absorb it all.

Ian still looks exhausted, which Mickey finds weird. It feels like all Ian has done the past couple of weeks is sleep, even though Mickey knows he has barely slept at all. "You wanna try get some rest?" he offers and Ian lifts his head.

He seems to consider it for a moment, before eventually shaking his head. "I could do with a shower, though."

Ian smiles slightly, easing the tension in Mickey's shoulders that Mickey didn't even know was there. "Alright, okay."

He stands up from the bed, reaching his hands out to help Ian up. Ian is unsteady on his feet, unsurprisingly, and staggers once he's upright, so Mickey lets Ian lean on him and he leads him to the bathroom, hands flexing to stop himself practically carrying him. Once they're in the bathroom, Mickey steps away from Ian to let him try to keep his own balance and Ian sways slightly but he's ultimately okay.

Mickey stays alert, ready to catch Ian if he staggers again. "You gonna be okay from here, or d'you need me to help?"

"I'll be fine," Ian promises.

They stare at each other for a moment, Mickey hesitant to leave. But he quickly forces himself out of that headspace, offering Ian one more smile before leaving the room and closing the door behind himself. He freezes outside the door, leaning against it and just breathing for a moment, reminding himself that Ian is out of bed and he seems as okay as Mickey can expect him to be.

He gives himself another minute before he pulls away from the door and heads for the kitchen. If there's one thing he can do, he can make himself useful by making Ian something to eat. Ian won't be that hungry and Mickey knows that, but he'll feel better if he knows that Ian has the option should he want it.

There isn't much to eat in the house - there never really is. But there's enough to make a ham sandwich, so Mickey does just that and he plates it up and places it on the table. He sits at the table and lights up a cigarette, trying his best not to think because he's going to overthink everything even though there's really nothing to overthink. He just needs to relax. He can relax now, because Ian is okay.

Except Mickey can't shake the feeling that there's something else wrong. Ian didn't seem right. But, then again, these past couple of weeks have been horrible for Ian and he's barely out of it, so Mickey can't exactly expect him to be perfectly fine again, can he? Not this soon.

He's overthinking it, he knows he is, but he can't help it. How is he supposed to get past that? Ian had pushed him away for two weeks, not even let Mickey touch him and Mickey had hated it. Now he has Ian back but he can't trust it, not fully. He can't trust that Ian isn't going to fall back into his depressed state at any second even though, realistically, he knows that that won't happen, that Ian's going to be okay for possibly months, at least.

Mickey lets out a deep breath, resting his elbows on the table and his head in his hands. HIs cigarette has long since burned out but he isn't focused on that. He just needs to stop thinking about this all for a while. He just wants to be happy that Ian is okay now, doesn't want to make this out to be a bigger deal than it is.

Mickey glances at the time. It's been fifteen minutes since he left Ian in the bathroom and he's desperately fighting the urge he has to go and check on him. He's on edge, just wants to make sure he's alright but he knows not to smother him, to give him space to prove that Mickey trusts him.

Because he does trust him. More than anyone.

But he only manages to control himself for five more minutes before he has to head back to the bathroom, just to ask if there's anything he needs. He knocks on the door, loudly because he can hear the shower still running, and calls, "Ian, d'you need anything?"

He's met silence save for the continued sound of running water. He doesn't let himself become worried, because maybe Ian just didn't hear him. "Ian? You okay in there?"

More silence.

Okay, now Mickey can't stop himself from panicking. He breathes in through his nose and out through his mouth, and then knocks again, louder this time. " _Ian_. Answer me or I'm gonna come in."

He gives Ian just a few seconds before he has to go in, he has to check on him. He pushes the door open, finding Ian's clothes on the floor and the shower curtain is closed so Mickey pulls it open.

Mickey stumbles at the sight before him. Ian is wearing his boxers and he's sat in the bathtub, the water from the shower pouring directly on top of his head, and he's staring at his hands. That's not the distressing part, though. In Ian's right hand, there's a small shining piece of metal that Mickey knows is from a razor.

Mickey lets out a pained sound but he can't form words, can't form any sort of thought. He just scans for red, for blood but there's nothing and he's not sure whether or not he should be grateful because there's a blade in Ian's hand and how is he supposed to deal with this?

With trembling hands, Mickey reaches up and turns off the shower, which Ian doesn't even react to, and he strips down to his own boxers. He has to be calm. Any sudden movement and he risks Ian using the blade and he can't- he _won't_ risk it.

Once he's in his boxers, Mickey climbs into the bathtub and sits across from Ian, who is still avoiding looking at him. Mickey isn't yet sure whether that's deliberate or not, whether Ian is actively ignoring him or whether he isn't aware that Mickey is even here.

Mickey inhales slowly, attempting to compose himself. "Ian?" Ian flinches at his voice, which Mickey takes as as good of a sign that he possibly can. If Ian knows he's here, if Ian can hear him, that means that Mickey can get through to him. He can fix this, he just has to try. "What are you doing?"

Ian is shaking, but Mickey is sure it isn't from the cold. He glances between Ian's face and the blade, ignoring the urge he has to reach over and grab the blade. All it takes is one slip of the hand, or for Ian to react quicker than he does, and he could lose him.

Mickey's eyes are burning, tears threatening to spill over but he does his best to blink them away. Now is not the time for crying. "Ian, you're really starting to scare me."

Ian's hands clench into fists at that and then there's blood trickling down his wrist from where he's gripping the blade. Mickey's stomach churns and fuck, he's about to throw up. He coughs and forces himself to breathe because he has to breathe if he's going to be able to do this. "Hey," Mickey whispers, trying for a small smile but it's pointless because Ian isn't even looking at him and what difference would a smile make, anyway? Ian doesn't need a fucking smile, he needs to drop the blade and he needs to do it soon. "Talk to me. Tell me what's going on."

Ian shakes his head, pulling his knees to his chest. He's crying, shoulders trembling and Mickey wants nothing more than to pull him as close as he possibly can but he knows he can't. He needs to be able to get through to Ian, not force him into being held even though Mickey knows it'll help them both - it's not what either of them need right now.

"Ian, look at me," Mickey says but it just earns another adamant shake of the head from Ian. "You're okay-"

"I'm _not_!" Ian yells suddenly with a loud sob, fists tightening and there's more blood that makes Mickey's stomach twist and turn. "I'm not fucking okay. I'm fucked up-"

"You're not fucked up!" Mickey argues and Ian's head snaps up, eyes wide and glistening with tears that keep falling and falling and Mickey isn't sure they're ever going to stop. "You're not crazy, or mess up, or insane, or whatever the fuck you want to call yourself, alright?" Mickey's voice is shaking, trembling, and he's crying now, too, but he can't find it in himself to care. "You're Ian Gallagher, and you're stronger than this. You don't need to do this."

Ian flat out whimpers and Mickey's heart shatters into a billion pieces. "I _can't_ \- Mickey, I'm a fucking mess. I don't want to hurt you."

Mickey laughs darkly, shaking his head incredulously. " _Hurt me_? Ian, the only way you're gonna hurt me is if you slit your fuckin' wrists!" Ian flinches again at Mickey's words and Mickey is immediately filled with an overwhelming sense of guilt. "Shit, Ian-"

"I'm sorry," Ian whispers. His hands relax and Mickey can see the blade and where it's pierced the skin of Ian's hand and it's becoming so much harder not to just snatch the blade right up. He has to make sure that Ian _wants_ to give him the blade, that he doesn't want to do this.

"Don't be sorry," Mickey tells him, but there's no strength behind it because he'll take Ian being sorry over Ian being suicidal any day if he has to. "Just... _don't_ do this. Please don't do this."

Ian's breath is heaving and he's still crying so much that even if he wanted to talk, it's clear that he'd struggle. And Mickey is panicking now because he feels like he isn't getting through to him as much as he wants to be and he doesn't know what to do, he doesn't know how to stop this, how to stop Ian doing this to himself, to _Mickey_.

"This isn't the answer," Mickey tries to convince him, keeping his voice as calm as possible but it's getting harder and harder to breathe. "Ian, _please_. Just... give me the blade, and we can forget about all this, okay?" That's not entirely true - Mickey won't forget about this, and he's going to make sure that they have a serious conversation about it at some point. But, for now, he just wants to be able to hold him, he just needs to hold him and make sure he's okay.

Ian nods slowly and Mickey isn't sure how he's supposed to take that, what it's supposed to mean. But then Ian mumbles, "Okay," and Mickey's heart stops.

"Okay?" he asks for clarification, and Ian nods again and that's all Mickey waits for.

He tries his best to keep his movements slow and steady but he can't quite hide his enthusiasm when he reaches over to take the blade from Ian's hand. He flings it over the side of the bathtub - he can deal with it later. Now, though, he's scrambling to pull a hysterical Ian closer and Ian is rushing to curl himself into Mickey's chest, sobbing into Mickey's shoulder. Mickey just holds him as tightly as he can and presses kisses to the top of Ian's head and runs his hands up and down Ian's arms and does everything he possibly can to make this better for him.

"I fuckin' love you," Mickey promises into the top of Ian's head. Ian sobs at that, chest heaving. "I love you so much, Ian Gallagher, and the thought of losing you-" Mickey's voice cracks and he has to stop talking before he breaks down completely.

Ian doesn't stop sniffling and crying and Mickey doesn't think it's possible, but his heart breaks again and he can't stop shaking and he can't breathe properly and he needs to focus on Ian but he can't. He doesn't know how to fix this, how to handle this because how do you handle your boyfriend, the person you love, thinking that the only way to make everything better is to kill himself? How do you handle him thinking that you'll be better off without him, with him _dead_?

Mickey can't even begin to process any of this.

"I love you, too," Ian eventually whispers, after his crying has died down to shivering and sniffles. His hands curl around Mickey's waist as he hugs him close and Mickey feels like Ian might crush him but he doesn't care, just needs to feel this because he almost lost this forever, almost lost Ian forever. "I'm sorry-"

"It's okay," Mickey interrupts. He doesn't blame Ian, could never blame Ian. He feels Ian get ready to argue so he beats him to it: "Ian, I'm not going to have this conversation with you." Ian lifts his head from Mickey's shoulder to meet his eyes, confusion filling his own. "It's not your fault - none of this is. Me and you, we're gonna get through this. _Together_. Alright? No fuckin' arguments."

Ian manages a breathless laugh, dropping his head back down to Mickey's shoulder, and Mickey feels a thousand tonnes lighter, like maybe the weight of the world isn't pushing down on top of him any more. It's a tiny laugh, a pathetic laugh but it's perfect and it's beautiful and Mickey wants more of it, he wants so much more of it. "Thank you," Ian whispers and it's so quiet but it holds so much emotion that it both breaks Mickey and pieces him back together.

"You still need to shower," Micke points out. Ian laughs again against Mickey's shoulder, but he sounds tired, exhausted even. Mickey isn't surprised, though he isn't sure that having a shower right now is the best option - he wants Ian to be able to relax. "Actually, I'm gonna run you a bath."

"Ooh, romantic," Ian mocks but he glances up at Mickey with a shy smile as he lifts his head. "Does that mean we have to move?"

Mickey just nods in response, trying to ignore the slight disappointment that fills him. He's reluctant to move, to let go of Ian even though he knows he's probably being paranoid. It's just that sitting here, holding him reminds Mickey that Ian is safe because he can protect him, he can hold him and calm him down and make sure nothing bad can happen.

Mickey needs that.

But he has to trust Ian, can't exactly stay with him all of the time despite how much he would love to. And he does trust Ian, he _does_ , but Ian only needed five more minutes today for Mickey to lose him forever. And it's not Ian's fault, he knows that and he would never blame him, but he can't find it in himself to leave Ian alone. He wants to be able to, but he _can't_ because anything might happen and Mickey would never be able to forgive himself if something happened to Ian and he wasn't there to stop it.

"Mickey?" Ian questions, head tilted slightly. Mickey blinks, focusing on the redhead with a faint smile. "You kinda disappeared on me for a sec there."

Mickey's smile falters at Ian's confusion. "Sorry." He adjusts himself to get ready to stand up and holds his hand out for Ian. "Shall we?"

Ian grins taking Mickey's hand and they both climb out of the bathtub. Even once they're out, Mickey keeps a tight grip of Ian's hand - ignoring the blood because he can't think about the blood right now without completely shattering - and Ian appears to notice it but he doesn't react to it, doesn't mention it and Mickey is grateful because he's struggling to find the strength to let go.

It takes a few minutes but Mickey finally manages to let his hands relax, fingers loosening around Ian's hand and he lets it fall from his. A chill runs through him at the loss of contact but he ignores it the best that he can, clenching his hands into fists and averting his focus to something else. "Alright," he begins, rubbing his eyes, "I, uh, I made you a sandwich. It's in the kitchen. You don't need to eat it if you don't want to, but-"

"Mick," Ian interrupts, bringing his hands to Mickey's jaw and he forces Mickey to look at him, "calm down." Mickey suddenly becomes aware that he's close to hyperventilating. He inhales deeply, breath shaky and he forces himself to smile reassuringly.

It doesn't help though, and he's still shaking, filled with shivers right down to his core. The next thing he knows, he's pulling Ian into the tightest hug he can, one hand clawing at Ian's back and the other tangled in his hair. His eyes squeeze shut at the surprised gasp Ian lets out before the redhead is curling his arms around Mickey's waist. "Don't ever do that to me again!" Mickey warns but his voice is desperate and pathetic and doesn't quite hold the bite he wants it to. "Don't you _ever_ -" His voice cuts off into a sob and he clutches helplessly at Ian. He knows he's being weak and stupid but he's terrified of losing Ian and that was just way too close for him to be able to cope with.

"Fuck, Mickey," Ian breathes. His voice is trembling and Mickey feels absolutely terrible because Ian was smiling, he was laughing and he was happy - or, at least, as happy as he could be - and Mickey has ripped that away from him because he can't handle anything that's happened, because he can't keep his emotions in check for a few more hours. "I didn't- I'm sorry. Fuck, I'm sorry-"

"I know." Mickey pulls away with a deep breath, trying to control his breathing and keep it steady. He wipes his eyes to get rid of the tears, letting out a half-laugh-half-sob but Ian just frowns at him, looking downright miserable. "I know you're sorry, and I don't blame you. Christ, of course I don't blame you. But I can't... I don't know how... Fuck, it's nothing. Never mind."

Ian furrows his eyebrows, lifting his hand to Mickey's jaw and grips tight. "Hey, don't be like this, Mick. You've gotta fucking talk to me; how else am I gonna be able to help you?"

Mickey laughs darkly, dropping his gaze as Ian drops his hand. He's supposed to be the one looking after Ian, not the other way around. But Ian is a stubborn asshole, and Mickey knows he's not going to drop this until he gets the answer he wants. "I just... I _can't_." Ian tilts his head, waiting for Mickey to elaborate and Mickey finds himself unable to resist the puppy-eyes that Ian is giving him. "You scared the shit outta me there, and I can't- Ian I can't handle it. I want to be able to trust you, and I do. I _do_ trust you. But the thought of even being in a different room to you-" HIs voice breaks and he realises that if he doesn't stop talking, he's going to break, too. He avoids looking at Ian, ready to actually beat himself up for saying all of that because Ian doesn't need that put on him, he doesn't need to have to deal with all of that because these are Mickey's issues, they're Mickey's responsibility and he should be the one to figure out how to fix them, not Ian.

After a few moments of silence, Mickey chances a glance back up at Ian.

He regrets it immediately.

Ian looks fucking heartbroken, eyes full of guilt and shimmering with unshed tears. HIs hands are trembling as fists by his sides and he looks ready to explode, and Mickey wants nothing more than to bundle Ian up in his arms to stop that from happening, to hold him together.

"Ian?"

Ian shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut. " _Shit_." His hands fly to his hair, tugging harshly but Mickey is frozen, just waiting for his response. "I don't want to be doing this to you. See, this is what I was fucking talking about. I just keep hurting you, all the fucking time-"

Mickey steps forward, cutting Ian off by pressing his lips to his. Ian freezes and Mickey pulls away after just a second, resting their foreheads against each other. "Shut up, Gallagher." Ian's eyes open slightly, green eyes meeting blue. "You know that's not what I meant. I just need a bit of time to adjust, alright? I just need a little bit of time."

Ian nods slowly, inhaling shakily as he tries to focus on Mickey's words. "Okay. But... is there any chance that adjusting includes sleeping?" He raises his eyebrows, eyes filled with a slight glint. "All this emotion - I'm fucking exhausted."

Mickey lets himself smile just a little. Neither of them have slept much for the past couple of weeks, so perhaps a good sleep will do them both well. He grabs Ian's hand and pulls him back towards their bedroom. Mickey lies down first, lifting the comforter to make room for Ian. "I'm the big spoon," he says. "No arguments."

Ian just laughs softly but climbs into the bed and faces away from Mickey. Mickey slides closer, pressing his chest to Ian's back and curling his arm around Ian's waist. "You're gonna kill me one day," he mumbles as he presses his nose into the back of Ian's neck. He manages to breathe for what feels like the first time in weeks, his lungs no longer feeling like they can't expand as much as they should be able to.

He can practically feel Ian smile. "You'd better put up a good fight, then." He lets out a low breath. "Don't wanna go losing you any time soon."

Ian's tone is lighthearted, but Mickey can't help but take it in a different way, where Ian feels vulnerable and is actually scared that Mickey will end up leaving him. He closes his eyes, pushing it from his head. For now, he just wants to rest, relax, and hold Ian close.


End file.
